Halo
by elveriamoir
Summary: To my kitten with claws Ori. I will restore your honour after the mess PJ and FW made of your character. A collection of Short stories dedicated to the youngest of the Ri brothers. Ori.
1. Chapter 1

_**AN: I don't own any of the hobbit characters I am just taking them out of Tolkien's toy box and playing with them. **_

_**Ties in with chapters 5&6 in An Unexpected Encounter. Warnings of child abuse and what could possibly count for torture in place for this chapter. Ori is all of fifty when this takes place and there for twenty seven years away from being of age. **_

_**For LaurameBob.**_

Punishment.

Ori was curled up under a thin, rather holey blanket. If his older brother Nori was here he would have said it was more hole than blanket, but his older brother wasn't there or else Ori wouldn't be trying his hardest not to cry. He wanted Nori and he wanted Dori. He bit his lip till it bled, the taste of charcoal strong in his mouth and his cramping stomach clenching tightly on its emptiness.

He should have known better than to approach a meal left out for him on the estate, after all it had been taught to him over and over again. He'd seen others taken to task for daring to eat without the estate manager's permission. He'd seen his own Dori take blows meant for a younger dwarf. He'd witnessed his well-mannered brother carefully treating young dwarrows whose grey skin tone and skeletal frames showed they had broken the rules.

Yes he really should have known better. He bit back a cry and forced down more tears as he tried to move. The rough material of the blanket caught on the edges of the welts on his back and the cold of the stone seeped into his bruised bones. He closed his eyes, he hadn't given them the enjoyment of his tears or cries when they'd punished him so he wouldn't give them it now. He rolled cautiously onto his back, glad they'd left him with his under trousers if nothing else, shifting uncomfortably he leant his burning back against the gritty but thankfully cool wall. He pulled his knees to his narrow chest, setting his bare feet carefully on the floor, wincing as the pain in his left ankle joined the party. He closed his eyes and sighed silently, knowing even if they weren't watching him they were listening. He thought back over his mistakes.

Nori never stayed long, merely turning up covered in black dust and bringing Dori enough money so they could meet their rent and a warm hug for Ori. This time though Ori had been left alone as the estate manager had sent Dori on a message, apparently the other estate manager he wanted contacting was a fair distance away as Dori had been gone four days when Ori ran out of their pitiful stash of food in their rented home, it had been another six days after that when Ori had fallen for their trickery. He'd stumbled into the kitchen of the estates shaking from the cold rain, tired from his fourth sixteen hour shift in a row and slightly delirious from lack of food, when he'd found a simple meal of hard bread and harder bread set out for him. He'd argued with himself, but hunger had won out, in the end hunger and tiredness always won out. They had been watching him from the upper floor and as soon as he'd taken a mouthful swept into the room screaming about him stealing. In his confusion Ori had tripped spraining his ankle badly, and his fall had them circling him like wolves. He'd tried to fight back, but in his weakened state and against four full-grown, healthy males of the race of man he stood no chance. He had taken grim satisfaction in the fact he'd given one a black eye, bust one's nose, knocked the third's bottom front teeth out and made the fourth sprain his own ankle. His fighting back merely made his punishment worse. They forced a concoction of water and charcoal down his throat and soon he was throwing up, it went on until his already painfully empty stomach was spasaming into cramps. They offered him no aid merely held him still until he finally stopped retching. He had thought that was all, but having fought back he was in for a worse time of it, apparently they were going to use him as an example, and use all of the punishments. He was stripped of his outer clothing and his boots before being dragged, stumbling into the central square, where he was forced to his knees before a large wooden block. He tried to fight back again, getting a bust lip in the process as they tied him to it. He clenched his jaw against the pain of the lashes, his dwarven hide barely breaking from the leather thong. Their howls had him smiling grimly through the pain and meeting the horrified gaze of a pair of familiar green eyes. His vision was blurry though and he was focused solely on not sobbing or screaming as they increased the pressure. He dug his fingers into the wood until their tips bled, breathing shallowly through his nose and focusing on those green eyes until they untied him and dragged him across the square to the jail. He didn't aid them any preferring to hang like a dead weight between them and taking satisfaction in the grunts of pain he heard from one of them.

Now though he was in a cold, damp cell in nothing more than his under trousers and with a tatty cloth as a blanket and one pitcher of water. He was bruised in places he didn't know it was possible to bruise. He would bet the only reason he was alive was his dwarven heritage. Thick skin, solid muscled, bones of the very rock Arda was made from. He didn't know whether to be thankful to Mahal for making his children so endurable or to curse him to the darkest depths of Mordor.

He was left without food for several more days, his only company being the rats around him. The heavy cold started to seep into even his dwarven bones. His water pitcher hadn't been refilled and he was down to the last inch in the bottom having rationed it. The lack of food made moving more than to take a drink impossible. Ori shuddered, still desperately forcing the tears back, he didn't have to worry about crying out. He had lost the ability to speak the second day in. He could still tell how many days had passed in the darkness of the estate jail and swore if his captives knew of a dwarf's ability to sense the changing days even while underground he would find a way to kill them, it was another inventive form of torture.

A week later and Ori couldn't even open his eyes, his breathing was shallow, and he'd lost the feeling in his fingers and toes. He could no longer feel the cold or the pain, if it weren't for the very shallow rise and fall of his chest the dwarf that burst through the door of his cell would have thought him dead. The roar of an enraged eldest brother chilled the surviving guards to the bone as three floors above Ori's prison an older brother's grim expression shifted to one that promised pure pain. Green eyes went hard and flat as they strode out of the jail leaving broken bodies behind them.

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Bag End: Present day.

Ori knew his brown eyes probably looked like a rabbit caught by a fox and as he fixed them on his host's face, he had to force down flash backs. He was shaking dangerously and knew he had to convince their host he wouldn't eat without permission. "I don't wanna get in trouble if you are joking with me Master Baggins, 'm really hungry but I know better than to eat before my host and I know better than to eat anything other than what you put on my plate, I … Oh Mahal I'm sorry Master Baggins, I'm so sorry Please…."

_**AN: Oh God I hate myself.**_


	2. Of Courting Dwarrows

_**AN: I don't own any of the hobbit characters I am just taking them out of Tolkien's toy box and playing with them. This ties in with Chapter 43 of An Unexpected Encounter.**_

Of Courting Dwarrows.

_"It's okay Ori I know you don't like me like that and I promise I won't stare again it's just I've never seen you without a shirt and I couldn't help it and please don't stop being friends with me." He bit his bottom lip as he stared across the narrow space at Ori. The other dwarf hadn't moved and Kili was suddenly terrified he'd mucked it up. He pushed quickly to his feet and left the balcony with tears clawing at his throat._

_Ori growled as he watched Kili retreat, staring stupidly until his brain caught up. Kili liked him back. Prince though Kili was and son of a merchant though Ori was, Kili liked him. Kili was walking away from him. He darted after the young dwarf and caught his arm just as they rounded a corner of the path. He pulled the brunette to a stop and stepped into his personal space. "Did you mean it?" he gasped._

_Kili felt his bottom lip tremble and tried to talk with out his voice shaking, "That I wouldn't look again and that I was sorry? Yes I meant it. Please don't be mad at me Ori."_

_Ori stepped forward, forcing Kili to step back against a tree trunk, "Not about that," he almost growled, stopping himself from reaching out in case it was a cruel joke, "About liking me?"_

_Kili froze, "Crap, yes. Oh Mahal you hate me for it."_

_"No I don't Kili," Ori's voice was soft and he finally allowed himself to pull Kili into his chest. "I can't hate you for it because it would be hypocritical of me." He ran his hands in soothing circles on Kili's back, shuddering when the younger dwarf slid his hands over his bare back to return the hold. Goosebumps followed in the wake of Kili's fingers and Ori swallowed, "You don't know how much I have prayed to hear you say those words Kili. How I wanted you to return my feelings." He gripped the back of the prince's tunic tighter. "Kili I like you back."_

_"Really?"_

_The hot air against his neck caused the fine hairs on his arms to stand up and Ori was suddenly understanding a very small portion of what he'd read in that book. "Really Kili," he whispered untangling himself and pushing the brunette gently back against the tree trunk. "Can I kiss you Kili? I know we haven't courted or anything like that but I really want to kiss you."_

_"Ori." Kili's voice was full of wonder and he might have kicked himself for sounding so young if it weren't for the awed emotion in Ori's brown eyes. "One kiss can't hurt can it?" he whispered, wrapping his arms around Ori's bare waist. "Besides if you would let me court you no one will ever leave us alone as soon as they find out."_

_"Shush Kili of course I want to court you and I know it is wrong and we shouldn't but if you don't tell me to stop I am going to kiss you now since you agreed." Ori leant in slowly, letting his own hands slid around Kili's narrow waist. He gently touched their lips together. The kiss was chaste and short, but it left both of them smiling like idiots. Ori rested his forehead lightly against Kili's. "I suppose I should go put a shirt on," he sighed._

_"Must you?" sassed Kili, before sobering, "No wait, I have two tunics on and you can borrow one if you spend the day with me without us having to go back in there. I really don't want to share you." He bumped their foreheads affectionately, "We can go to that garden room you showed me and talk. Please Ori."_

_"I shouldn't and Thorin will skin me, but I want to make the most of our time without anyone knowing and interfering so I agree, on one condition." Ori breathed in the smell that was uniquely Kili as he waited for a reply._

_Kili had shut his eyes as Ori talked, but pried them open at that, "What condition?"_

_Ori reached up and ran his fingers into Kili's unbound hair, "You let me put a braid in this and wear my bead."_

_Kili smirked, "That I can live with because it means I can do the same for you."_

_Ori chuckled and pulled away slightly only to entwine their fingers, "Shall we move before we run into anyone then?"_

_Kili paused, "You don't want my shirt first?"_

_Ori smirked, "You want me to cover up?"_

_Kili shook his head firmly, "No not really but I promised I wouldn't look."_

_Ori flushed lightly, "Kili you are the only one who can look."_

_"In that case then I'm not giving you my tunic until we head back." He huffed as Ori started to walk, "Would you like to learn how to use a bow and arrow?" He raised the hand Ori had used to capture his and examined the long fingers, "You have the hands for it."_

_Ori looked carefully at Kili, "I would love to if you will be my teacher."_

_Kili nodded happily, before cautiously asking his next question, "Will you teach me to write as beautifully as you please Ori? I am rather jealous of your calligraphy skills."_

_Ori nodded and pressed a light kiss to the back of the hand he had captured. "It would be my pleasure Kili." He smirked, "I will see if the elves have a copy of that book I was telling you about if you want."_

_Kili tilted his head, considering what Ori had told him about that book carefully, "I'd rather you just surprised me with what you know." He admitted after a few moments._

_Ori nodded as he drew Kili through the gate and into their garden room, "I'd be delighted to," he whispered._

_888_

The sun slanted through the branches of the trees hanging over the valley and filled the garden room with rainbows. Ori tugged Kili after him, detouring around the bench and to the moss covered rocks at the bottom of the wrought iron fence. With the sound of the stream, the rainbow light off the crystals and the sweet scent off the jasmine and woodruff he felt like he had stepped into a dream. When he sank to the ground and Kili followed him he found himself wondering if he had indeed slipped into sleep at some point. A soft hand on his knee made him look up and he found himself staring deep into Kili's endless eyes. He reached shaking fingers up to cup the side of the brunette's jaw and watched as delicate eyelids fluttered shut as Kili turned his face to nuzzle at the inside of Ori's wrist. Suddenly aware of being shirtless and the crisscrossing silver threads scarring his back Ori dropped his hand and tried to shuffle further towards the fence at his back. Kili's eyes snapped open and warm hands closed around his wrists as the archer moved to kneel in front of him. Ori shot him a shaky smile and Kili leant forward to press their foreheads together. He allowed his eyes to flutter shut as a warm gentle hand closed around the nape of his neck. His breathing slowed as he returned the gesture and revelled in the intimacy of the situation. It was Kili who drew back, but since the archery callused fingers were carding through his hair Ori could find it in himself to be too disappointed. The brush of nails on his scalp tickled and he giggled softly. Kili's rich laugh rewarded him and he opened his eyes to peer into Kili's eyes. The younger dwarf's face was alight with joy and Ori could see some of his own disbelief reflected in brown-black eyes. He ran his own fingers through Kili's hair, marvelling at the silky-softness of the unbound tresses.

Kili leant into Ori's hand, his own falling uselessly at his sides. He could feel his chest vibrating and somewhere it sounded like a cat was purring, but he wasn't going to speak and distract Ori. The hands in his hair felt heavenly and he wondered why he didn't let people touch his hair more often (Fili and mother were always after him to let them braid it). He opened his eyes that he hadn't realised had fluttered shut when he realised Ori was talking. "You really enjoy me doing this?" There was awe in the well-read dwarf's voice and Kili frowned as the hands in his hair stopped their petting. He nodded slowly and was rewarded by Ori running a hand over his hair, stroking the length lightly. "I always thought you hated anything being done to your hair and that is why you never braided it." Ori's voice was soft and he could detect none of the judgement normally found in the voices of others when they found he didn't braid his hair.

He cleared his throat, "I keep enough of it clipped back that it doesn't interfere with my archery, but I have never found anything worth braiding into my hair. After all anyone that needs to, knows who my family is, and anyone who only wants to know me because of that doesn't need the braids so they can suck up to me. Don't stop." He pleaded the last as Ori had stopped and clenched his fists. "Please Ori!" Brown eyes flashed to his face and he saw anger on his behalf before they softened and gentle hands were using his shoulders to turn him around. "What?" He heard Ori shift behind him and leant back against the bare chest as hands started to comb through the length of his hair again. "Would it scare you if I told you that the only time I have really wanted a braid was when you said you wanted to put a braid in my hair?"

"That doesn't scare me Kili." Ori's voice was soft with an emotion Kili couldn't decipher without seeing his eyes, but the hands hadn't stopped and the dwarf was a warm weight at his back. He tilted his head as Ori trailed a finger around his ear and down his neck, shivering slightly as goose-bumps ran over his skin as Ori whispered in his ear, "So you wouldn't mind me putting my braid in now?"

"Please." Kili's voice was no more than a whisper and Ori felt his eyes widen even as he settled himself more comfortably. He kept petting the soft dark hair as he wondered where he should put the braid and how he would tie it off. As he brushed over the soft spot behind Kili's ear he nodded and dropped a kiss to the soft skin there. He raised an eyebrow at the shiver, but as Kili didn't complain merely brushed most of the dark locks over to the other side of the dwarf's head. He started to braid slowly, working the braid from the front of the head and along the scalp, before starting the intricate weave down its length. He finished and held it in place with his grandmother's hair clasp, the wooden, fanged bead held the dark hair perfectly and he was delighted to find he had made the braid just thick enough. Kili seemed to have been lulled into doze with his administrations so he wrapped an arm around the brunette's slender waist and shifted them so they were relaxing against the fence. He could help but keep running his fingers through the soft darkness of Kili's hair though and found he was content watching the paly of light over the younger male's face.

Kili found himself having the most delightful daydream. It wasn't until the hand in his hair stopped that he realised it was all happening in reality. He shifted so he could rest his head on Ori's chest, Ori drew a sharp breath but merely wrapped his other arm around Kili's waist so the brunette didn't think anything of it. He rested a hand on the pale skin of the scholarly dwarf's chest and wondered at the difference in the colour. Ori's skin was pale and smooth with barely visible silver scars running across it. Kili's heart clenched as he remembered Dori staggering into Ered Luin the unconscious, bloody body of his brother cradled in his arms. It hadn't been the most romantic of meetings (especially since Ori had been unconscious) but Kili had found his anger flooding him at the sight and he forced the crowds to clear, leading Dori to the royal healer himself. He had camped outside of the young dwarf's door for days, leaving only when his mother forced him too. When Ori had awoken he'd taken the dwarf handmade puzzles and even dug out his own calligraphy set (the one he'd been given as a birthday gift and never used) along with some parchment. He'd thought he would be the one entertaining Ori, yet it was the much too skinny dwarf who had kept him amused for the duration of his stay in the healers' wing. When Ori left the wing for the home Dori had managed to make them, Kili didn't see him as much and yet the scholarly dwarf never forgot his birthday and was always there when he had an achievement in his weapons training. Even after the incident that meant the pair of them recoiled from physical contact with everyone but each other (rather than just Ori) or maybe because of it, they became closer friends and Kili was the one who helped Dori arrange a party for Ori's coming of age. He sighed and moved his hand so his arms were wrapped around Ori even as he buried his nose into the slender neck. It felt right to be wrapped in this dwarf's arms, it felt right to wear his braid, and really if he hadn't been so blind he could have had this years ago.

Ori wondered what Kili was thinking as the brunette snuggled further into his side. He found his thoughts going back to when they were both much younger, a couple of years after he had arrived in Ered Luin. He hadn't seen Kili for months and was missing his friend, there was whispers of the wandering dwarves return and he was itching to go and visit. He refrained and instead wandered across the town to the underwork Hall of Records. He wasted a few hours scribing down births and deaths as an elder healer dictated to him until the older dwarf admitted they were tired. He had assisted the elder to their quarters and decided he could go and get something from the market. It had gone to Mordor from there. He'd whipped his head around when he'd heard snide whispers about Kili and his temper boiled over. He'd flung the sneering guard clear across the square and broken the jaw of the smirking inn keeper. His actions caught the attention of the rest of the guards and he found himself in a situation to similar to his past. This time though, his blood was up, he was relatively well fed and Nori had taught him some tricks. It wasn't until he slammed into Kili and sent the brunette to the floor that he'd realised he'd managed to get to the royal quarters without being caught. The fact Kili had launched himself up and clung to him, shaking with the force of his sobs had been the only reason he'd escaped arrest. Now he was looking back with a clearer mind, the Lady Dis had looked at him with approval and relief. Gloin had also been there and had gotten between the guards and him. The red haired dwarf had been livid and Ori could remember curling around Kili, protecting him from the loud voices as if they were blows. He turned his head and buried his nose in Kili's hair. They were so oblivious back then. They had to have been, because it felt so right to hold Kili in his arms.

It wasn't until a chill settled into the air that either of them moved. Hearing Ori mutter curses at the coolness and attempt to burrow into his back Kili chuckled softly and pulled out of the older dwarf's arms. "Here Ori," he muttered, voice slightly muffled by the tunic he was pulling over his head, "Not that I want to cover up your chest, but it'll be warmer." He felt his jaw drop as he took in Ori wearing his clothes. Something warm settled in his chest and he knelt, placing a hand on the auburn-haired dwarf's cheek as he did. "I know it is against the rules, but…I mean…we've…can I kiss you?" Ori nodded eagerly and Kili leant forward to press their lips together. A warm arm slid around his waist and a hand threaded in his hair, but the kiss remained sweet and comforting. When he broke away it was with a gentle smile and he was happy to see Ori's eyes were shining with joy. He tugged lightly on Ori's one braid. "Can I put my braid in your hair now?"

Ori felt himself grin as he nodded and let Kili move his head how he wanted it. The tunic smelt slightly like the dwarf fussing with his hair and he buried his nose in it and inhaled in lieu for the real thing. The material was soft against his skin, but what was keeping him warm was the thought that it was Kili's. He ran a hand down the braid Kili had just clipped off, eyes widening as he felt the clasp at the end of it. He knew without looking that the bead was blue and silver, with a small amount of turquoise. He pulled Kili around even as he was moving and pressed their lips together.

Kili's rumbling stomach broke the embrace, and he chuckled bashfully until Ori's stomach answered it. Meeting each other's eyes they started to laugh and it took them a while to calm down.

They wandered back to the wing that had been given to the company for their stay and if their fingers entwined occasionally they didn't care. Shoulder to shoulder, an arm around each other's waist. They stopped just short of entering and leant their heads together under the gathering dusk. Their noses brushed and Kili darted forward to press a swift kiss to Ori's pouting lips.

_**AN: Let me know what you think please. **_


	3. A Painter's Pallet

_**AN: I don't own any of the hobbit characters I am just taking them out of Tolkien's toy box and playing with them.**_

A Painter's Palette.

He wandered the meandering pathways, rejoicing at the feel of the sharp moss covered pebbles under the surprisingly delicate soles of his feet. A breeze ruffled his shaggy mane of mousey auburn hair and he breathed the chill gust in deeply, eyes sparkling as he felt it swirl deep within his lungs, the cold almost painful. He paused by a frosted lake, wiggling slightly blue toes over what was once soggy ground. Despite his bare feet he was well wrapped up and his constitution meant even with no shoes or socks he wasn't really feeling the cold.

He threw his head back as he spread his arms and danced in a circle, laughing wildly as the peach tinted clouds spun across a glowing white-blue sky. His grin stretched across his face as he relished the feeling of being alive, he stopped spinning and stood facing the lake eyes shining in delight as he took in the frost tinted colours of the tree line behind it. The leaves of the trees danced in a patchwork of burnt-gold, flaming copper, glowing scarlet and here and there a rich whole-some deep green. Closer to the shore, short bushes had their colours muted by the chill air, the vibrant shades appearing more delicate. Burnt-gold became a sweet buttery yellow, flaming copper shimmered into mottled bronze and glowing scarlet faded to a delicate blush. The green of the rich grass was muted becoming almost silver under its heavy coating. The lake itself flung patterns of rainbow away from its fascinatedly patterned surface.

Ori spun again taking in the mass of colours a final time before he turned his feet on the path that would lead him homeward. He was greeted amicably by those he passed and his blue tinged toes got him a few giggles from the small youngsters he passed, he smiled indulgently at them and winked as he slipped brilliant coloured hard candies into their eager hands. They whopped as their tiny hands were filled with gems of red, blue, yellow and green. He left them behind him shortly and turned into the home stretch where the late blooms stood out against the creamy, orange lichen and green-grey moss coloured dry stone wall of home. The sun finally broke from behind the clouds and Ori stopped to admire the place he now called home.

The green of the hill glinted silver with the early season frost, causing the brilliant emerald painted round door and windows to pop. The brass handle and knocker on said door glowed with the morning sun, while the grey flagstones sparked (to his dwarven eyes) with a mirrade of greens and blues, shimmering as if they were in a heat haze and not hidden under a layer of frost. He stepped confidently up the path, closing the grey-brown wooden gate softly behind him.

Before he could open the door it was flung open and he stopped and smiled down at his brother. He was treated to a rare wide smile and he stopped to wish he had an artist's palette to be able to paint the image his brother presented. Ori's eyes travelled from a head of auburn-gold-honey curls, met his brothers green-hazel ones with a raised eyebrow over rosy blushed tanned skin and down over a red mouth. He raised his other eyebrow at the patch worked smoking jacket his brother wore, the autumn colours glowing like fire lit jewels and the tasselled cords worn to a muted gold. Deep plum trousers completed the ensemble and Ori realised he should be thankful that his brother had an eye for colour or his love of it could develop into something horrible.

He stomped through the door and pulled Bilbo into a huge hug, closing the heavy door behind him. Here was home and as his ears picked up the sound of fifteen other dwarves awakening slowly he realised that here was a home they could have lost through their own stupidity. Ori shrugged out of his own black-purple velvet jacket and hung it on a hook to be followed by a rich purple heavy knitted scarf and bobble hat. He smiled at Bilbo and steered him into the already sweet smelling kitchen. The hobbit merely shook his head fondly and Ori found himself sitting at the kitchen table a bowl of spiced porridge and a mug of rich coco in his grasp.


	4. A Study

_**AN: I don't own any of the hobbit characters I am just taking them out of Tolkien's toy box and playing with them. **_

_**FanFiction Queen: You just sent my mind into overdrive with that request. I don't know if I can get them all wrote out fast enough. And that's on top of all the food sections I need to write for Encounter thanks to a visit to my local farmshop. **_

A Study.

This is a historical document penned by Ori of the house of Ri, personal scribe of His Majesty Thorin Oakenshield and royal historian of the line of Durin.

Discrepancies during the quest to reclaim Erebor caught this scribe's attention and as such resulted in this very personal and careful study of the company's one and only hobbit.

If one is not aware of just exactly what a hobbit is then let me enlighten you. They are what Big People tend to refer to as Halflings (although I wouldn't call them this if you value your beard and balls) or Small Folk. Their history has long been lost in the passage of time and they are little known outside of the area of Arda that they have chosen to settle. Hobbits range between two and four feet in height, with (according to Master Baggins) the average height being in the region of three feet six inches. As a race they like bright colours, normally greens and yellows, but some do prefer more autumnal colours such as burnt umber and red. The hair on their heads is curly, with the males keeping it short and the females letting it grow, and normally a shade of brown. Few have more golden locks or red tinted ones. They are slight as children growing more stocky over time thanks to their love of good food and drink and plenty of it. They enjoy farming, peace and quiet and the company of friends and family over adventure and mayhem (although the tales Master Baggins told of his Tookish siblings may call that into disrepute). While they are generally not fighters they are adapt with all matter of ranged weapons from bows to slings to merely throwing rocks, and while a shy race they have a hidden fire that surges to the front when what they hold dear is threatened. Their ears are pointed like an elf, and like our willow neighbours they are also incapable of growing beards. The most remarkable feature one tends to notice upon meeting a member of their race would be the feet. The tops of which are covered with hair as thick and curl as that on their heads, and the soles of which are thicker than tanned leather. Then there is the size. For small folk (and begging Master Baggins' pardon for calling them such) their foot size is remarkable, even the feet of the race of man is smaller that of hobbits.

Now I have informed you of the race of hobbits let me tell you just what this study is about. Now as you will be aware dwarven ears are not that sensitive, we see them as a means to hear and often proudly wear rings and studs of metal and gems through them. It was within a few weeks of travel that one of the Durin princes first noticed Master Baggins' ears were unadorned, now being the inquisitive pair they are said prince reached out to push Master Baggins' curls out of the way so he could see better. Leaving aside our own people's rules concerning hair, Master Baggins' response to the prince being near his ears was alarmingly violent. His verbal diatrade had most of the company blushing and the resounding slap had our ears ringing and the prince's cheek glowing for several hours. This reaction was what caused me to set aside time for a study, a very subtle study as I mentioned earlier, I for one did not want to find out how hard Master Baggins could strike, or be on the end of one of his scoldings.

After that incident Master Baggins kept his ears so carefully hidden that all that were visible of them were the pointed tips. This of course made it slightly more difficult to study them, however I was not born a dwarf for nothing and as we all know dwarves are renowned for their stubbornness. Apparently this dwarf is also more approachable than the rest of his kin, for it was not but three days later that Master Baggins approached me with a blush on his cheeks and wringing his hands together. He wanted to know the best way to apologise to the prince and thought I may be able to help him. Since his ears were obviously a sensitive subject for him I desperately tried not to stare at the pointed tips sticking through his hair. I failed and he floundered around for several moments before blushing a brilliant scarlet and lifted his curls so I could see them full. I was surprised to find they were not as delicate as an elf's and shaped more like a leaf than a sharp point. He didn't explain the blushing and hurriedly dropped his curls when I thanked him for showing me them. I could have kicked myself for not seeing it then.

The next few days passed in boredom, bar Master Baggins apologising to the prince. To our surprise the prince also apologised for his forwardness, and we then spent an awkward few hours explaining our taboo about touching the hair of others outside of family. I don't think we managed too well at that point for our hobbit merely looked confused and settled back to watch us all carefully.

When we stopped to bathe a few days later we all expected the smaller, slightly fussy creature to be as concerned as we about modesty, however Master Baggins merely gave a shout of delight and stripped off in front of us to plunge into the water, soap in hand. I have never seen so many red faces in all my life. After that show we all attempted to bathe without catching a glimpse of the others, if the hobbit didn't care we would have appeared cowards to try and bathe separately. We camped next to the river and great amusement was had when our Master Baggins thoroughly trounced Master Balin in a game of riddles. I noticed that despite his immodest approach to bathing, Master Baggins never once showed us his ears, even with his curls dripping and plastered to his head.

It wasn't until we reached Rivendale that I found another piece of the puzzle. Hobbits have amazing hearing. And by amazing I mean better than an elf's. While a dwarf uses all their senses for tracking, Master Baggins was able to track the two elves who thought it a good idea to try and prank us, almost seven halls before they reached us. I think I may have been the only one to notice that he had his head tilted for several long moments before he left the corner he had ensconced himself in and dragged me away, declaring loudly that he was taking me with him for protection as he hunted for the library. He started laughing when we were half way there. It wasn't until we got back that I found out why. I have been forbidden for mentioning the prank played in full so I will not go into details. It was then that I realised Master Baggins had likely heard every bad thing said about him, even if he didn't understand all of it.

When we left Riverdale I stayed close to Master Baggins' side, even through the ice storm he managed to keep his ears covered, even after we climbed trees to escape from goblins and wolves those leaf shaped appendages were carefully hidden. It wasn't until we reached the house of the wizard's friend that I caught sight of them again. Master Baggins had obtained a head injury in the goblin tunnels and he had lifted his hair out of the way so Healer Oin could treat it. I was the only one watching as the healer carefully checked Master Baggins' head for further injury and since Healer Oin if deaf I was the only one who heard the sharp intake of breath and noticed the hands clenching as hands caught his ears.

I was given the time to ponder over this as we stayed at the home of the shape shifter for a couple of days. Time and time again it seemed as if the answer to the puzzle was within hands reach, and time and time again I was distracted from it by Master Baggins himself. The eve before we departed I found him watching me we a knowing glint in his eyes and a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Then we were in the Mirkwood and I had no time for riddles. It wasn't until we were imprisoned in the elven king's dungeons that I had time to dwell on it again.

It was actually an elf that filled in the second from last piece of the puzzle for me. Sharp words from the head of the guard to what was obviously the prince of the realm had me swearing in Khudzul (I am ashamed to admit it but not too proud). When Bilbo next appeared it was out of thin air and I couldn't help but pull him forward to knock our heads together slightly. It was then I also realised my study had become personal. He smiled and returned the hand on the back of my neck, before gently touching my ear. He disappeared before I could ask further and my next musing was interrupted by our escape.

Laketown was interesting, but with our king and company becoming increasingly concerned we had few moments to rest and I didn't get a moment to think. I prefer not to go in to the horror of the worm or battle that followed. I barely saw Master Boggins and I had again no time to ponder the mystery of hobbit ears.

It wasn't until Erebor had been reclaimed for two years and Thorin crowned king with the Arkenstone gleaming behind him in the throne that I finally found out the truth.

Needless to say I had my eyes opened in many ways.

If I had known then what would come of my study would I have started it? My answer is a resounding yes. If I hadn't started my study then I would never have become bonded to Master Baggins. What did I discover about hobbit ears? Well if you want to know that, you'll just have to go find your own hobbit because I am not sharing mine.

_**AN: Let me know what you think please. **_


	5. If I had You

_**AN: I don't own any of the hobbit characters I am just taking them out of Tolkien's toy box and playing with them.**_

_**Because I don't think I've done this for Ori. **_

_**FanFiction Queen: I blame you again, you are the (very goodlooking) devil on my shoulder. Stop leading me away from my two main stories and enticing me to write Oneshots for single characters. **_

If I Had You.

_So I got my boots on,  
>Got the right amount of leather<br>And I'm doing me up with a black colored liner  
>And I'm working my strut but I know it don't matter<br>All we need in this world is some love_

_There's a thin line 'tween the dark side,  
>And the light side, baby tonight<br>It's a struggle, gotta rumble, tryin'a find it  
><em>

Ori hummed as he danced around his room. Dark clothing lay strewn across the bed and red candles flickered in the black iron wall sconces. Tonight the hobbit was taking him partying, only problem is he hadn't told Ori where they were going. Ori paused in front of the mirror and struck a pose. Bilbo was annoying with that cryptic comment about dressing his best, but then Ori supposed the smaller male didn't know just what Ori's best was. He ran a hand over the lithe muscles that lined his chest and stomach before throwing his nude reflection a wink. Time to get ready.

But if I had you,  
>That would be the only thing I'd ever need<br>Yeah if I had you,  
>The money, fame and fortune never could compete<br>If I had you,  
>Life would be a party, it'd be ecstasy<br>Yeah, if I had you  
>Y-y-y-y-you y-y-y-y-y-you y-y-y-y-y-you<br>If I had you

He pitched his voice in song as he carefully lined his eyes in black ink and lips with blood red. Pale skinned as he was the effect was startling. With deft hands he settled his blood red streaked strawberry blond hair so it seemed to glow and tied off the braids he supported with black and silver clasps. Soft black silk, straight-legged trousers were slipped on, followed by a skin tight sheer garnet long-sleeved, Victorian-ruffled shirt. He tugged the material flat and tucked it into the top of his trousers, skilfully tying the laces of said garments. A black silk waistcoat, with garnet embroidery and silver buttons was next. Black leather ankle boots with a small heel, polished to perfection followed. Finally he eased himself into the black jacquard frock coat, and slipped a blood red silk handkerchief into its breast pocket. A silver pocket watch, with silver chain and garnet studded fob went on the waistcoat, watch tucked carefully in the special pocket. He was just picking up his silver topped ebony cane and black velvet money pouch when Bilbo knocked on his door just as the hour bell tolled. Ori smirked, hobbit was always exactly on time.

From Mirkwood to Erebor getting high, rock and rolling  
>Get a<p>

_room__ trash it up 'til it's ten in the __morning__  
>Girls in stripper heels, boys rolling in leathers<br>What they need in this world is some love  
>There's a thin line 'tween the wild time,<br>And a flat-line, baby tonight  
>It's a struggle gotta rumble, tryin'a find it<em>

Ori walked into the club with his head held high and a soft smile on his lips. Beside him, dressed in black leather was Bilbo and they had hours of fun to look forward to. Around them females of all races gyrated around poles in varying stages of undress. Ori had to admire their skills, but they couldn't hold his attention. He signalled he was heading to get a drink and stepped purposely over to the bar when Bilbo acknowledged him.

But if I had you,  
>That would be the only thing I'd ever need<br>Yeah if I had you,  
>The money, fame and fortune never could compete<br>If I had you,  
>Life would be a party, it'd be ecstasy<br>Yeah, if I had you  
>Y-y-y-y-you y-y-y-y-y-you y-y-y-y-y-you<br>If I had-

The beat of the music could be felt down to his bones and he shot the bartender a wide smile before ordering a single malt. The cut-crystal glass and the tasteful décor soothed his soul and he found himself passing time by flirting with said bartender. He had to admit the human was sort of cute, if a little young. The lad couldn't hold his attention for long and he allowed his eyes to flicker around the room. Bilbo was surrounded by admirers again, nothing new there. Bard dancing with the strippers was unexpected, but beyond being good for a chuckle not really exciting.

The

_flashing__ of the __lights__  
>It might feel so good<br>But I got you stuck on my mind, yeah  
>The fashion and the stage, it might get me high<br>But it don't mean a thing tonight_

As Ori watched the crowd of dancing couples parted and he caught sight of Dwalin Fundinson dressed head to toe in leather and lace. Now that was a sight he could feast his eyes on all night.

That would be the only thing I'd ever need  
>Yeah if I had you,<br>The money, fame and fortune never could compete  
>If I had you,<br>Life would be a party it'd be ecstasy  
>Yeah if I had you<br>Y-y-y-y-you y-y-y-y-y-you y-y-y-y-y-you  
>If I had you<p>

He took his time. Much as he wanted to dive straight into flirtation, the chase was much more fun when it was, well, a chase.

That would be the only thing I'd ever need  
>Yeah if I had you,<br>The money, fame and fortune never could compete  
>(Never could compete with you)<br>If I had you, life would be a party, it'd be ecstasy  
>(It'd be ecstasy with you)<br>Yeah if I had you  
>Y-y-y-y-you y-y-y-y-y-you y-y-y-y-y-you<br>If I had you.

He winced as his waistcoat and trousers hit the floor, but strong arms picking him up and slamming him into the wall drove them from his mind. Before he gave into more animalistic urges Ori made a mental note to thank Bilbo, who would have thought Dwalin wanted a gentleman.

_**AN: I do not own the song lyrics. Adam Lambert's "if I had you."**_

_**Leave me a review, please *puppy eyes*.**_


	6. Ink

_**AN: I don't own any of the hobbit characters I am just taking them out of Tolkien's toy box and playing with them.**_

Ink.

Ink was Ori's life. Literally his life. Without it he wouldn't have a job. Without it he wouldn't be able to record his research or capture the images that sung to his very soul. He smirked as he nodded at the balding man who was leaning over him. Of course ink was also the only way his art could be recorded onto his skin. He hummed softly as the vibrations and prickling started in his skin. He wondered what he would do when he finally ran out of skin to decorate. His back was a work of art already, covered from neck to hips in swirling lines of colour and shadow. The dragon leering from his skin was of the inkiest black, while the flames that surrounded him now trailed across his collar bones, shoulders and to the top of his biceps. On his arms the flames shifted into a pattern of stars and sickles that ran down to his wrists. On his hips the flames trailed around his pelvic bones to shift into twisting vines and runes that ran down his buttocks and legs to stop at his ankle bone. His lower stomach was a combination of the vines, runes stars and sickles. He grunted as the needle started its work over his ribs, repressing another sigh so he didn't startle his tattooist. He was in the middle of the art work on his chest and soon he would either have to stop or have the tattoos showing at work. He gave a mental chuckle at the thought of turning up to his job at the library with tattoos covering his hands and face. Ah well, he supposed he could always start designing them for Nori, he just had to find a way to make sure Dori never, ever found out about it.


	7. Ghost story

_**AN: I do not own any of the characters or places in the hobbit, they belong to Professor Tolkien and he would kill me for how I have corrupted them. **_

_**Happy Samhain everyone. **_

Ghost stories.

All the dwarves working in the forge of the blacksmiths soon learned to be very careful around the furnace and the ladles full of molten steel. Every worker feared what would happen if the chains holding the ladles full of hot liquid ever broke while they passed overhead. Burning to death in molten steel might be a quick demise, but it would be agonizing.

One poor fellow who used to work in the forge had tripped over a rigger hose back in the age of Durin VI and had fallen into a ladle of hot steel. His body was immediately liquefied; there was nothing left for his family to bury save for a small nugget of steel that was skimmed from the tainted ladle before its contents was dumped into a vacant lot. From that day onward, the workers said that the dwarf's ghost clanked and moaned its way around the forge at night, searching for his dead body.

Now the newest steel worker, a young dwarf recently moved to Erebore, laughed mockingly when he heard the story about the ghost. He even volunteered to work the late shift just to prove to the other dwarves that they were wrong about the ghost. The young dwarf liked the extra money this earned him, and soon his reputation for fearlessness and his scorn for the ghost were the talk of the Forge.

There came an evening the young dwarf found himself alone on the furnace floor. It was the slow time between shifts, and by rights he should already be on his way home. However, he had stayed behind for a moment to complete a small task, and he hummed contently to himself as he bent over his work. He gradually became aware of a muffled sound coming from somewhere to his left. He ignored it, since the mechanized processes all around him often made strange sounds.

The sound grew louder, and the young dwarf looked up from his labours to see a glowing white mist gathering in the air a few yards away from where he stood. The mist emitted a faint rapping noise, which slowly clarified into steady thud of a dwarf's approaching footsteps.

The dwarf gasped, his arms breaking out into goose-bumps in spite of the heat from the furnace. He watched with unblinking eyes and pounding heart as the mist solidified into the glowing figure of a dwarf making his rounds. Suddenly, the dwarf tripped and fell downwards in slow motion toward a shimmering ladle full of steaming molten steel. The phantom dwarf's body plunged into the hot liquid, and he tried in vain to grab the sides of the ladle and pull himself out, unwilling to believe that he was doomed. Then, his body liquefying beneath him and his face hideously twisted with pain, the ghostly dwarf screamed desperately for someone to save him as he sank downward into the red-hot ladle. With a final, hair-raising shriek, the apparition disappeared.

The young dwarf's scream of sheer terror was so loud that it cut through the voice of the phantom, echoing and re-echoing through the furnace room. Dropping his tools as if he himself were burning up, the young man raced for the exit, followed by the gut-wrenching sound of maniacal laughter.

The dwarf packed his bag as soon as he got back to his lodgings and returned home, never to enter a forge again, he took up scribing. But the ghost of the dead steel worker continued to haunt the blacksmiths until the day the dragon came.

They say that to this day, dwarves walking near the spot where the old blacksmiths once stood can still hear the steel worker's dying scream, followed by the sound of maniacal laughter.

_**AN: leave me a review and let me know what you think please. **_


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